White Wolves
by dreaming in black and white
Summary: The story of the werewolves who run with Dewayne White's pack; their triumphs, tragedies and the loves that hold them together throughout. On temporary hiatus.
1. White Wolf: Part 1

**A/N: PLEASE READ THIS!**

**This is a story that runs parallel to 'Shattered Sunrise'; I would recommend reading that first, as **_**this**_** could spoil parts of **_**that**_** plot if you intend to go on and read it. But both make sense as stand-alone stories.**

**Basically, this is the story of a pack of werewolves, spanning twenty-four years, told from various points of view as different characters' lives become the focus of the story; their triumphs, tragedies and the loves that hold them together through it all. **

**You'll notice I've finally worked out how to use those divider lines. So no more 'xox's in the middle of the page lol**

**To those of you who followed me here from 'Shattered Sunrise' – thanks and I hope you enjoy this! You'll recognise most of the characters, this includes the bits of their story that didn't come up.**

* * *

**White Wolf: Part 1**

**1984**

_**Deandra Anderson**_

I never believed in love at first sight.

I mean, I accepted it as a literary technique, never scoffed at those who claimed it had only taken one glance to know they wanted to spend their life with somebody. I knew it had happened to my parents, but still…I never thought it would happen to me.

I was fourteen and sulking on the day I fell in love.

I hadn't wanted to move to Canada. I hadn't wanted to leave my home, my friends, my life and come across an ocean to live with my grandparents, the only remnant of how I had lived before the little brother who was currently doing whatever was in his power to annoy me. Cayne was four years old with angel dimples and a halo of blonde hair, my grandparents' darling. I didn't care so much about that as the fact they'd left me to babysit him while they were out, Grandpa to meet up with friends and Gran to have tea with one of her societies. God, even my grandparents had more of a social life than me.

It wasn't fair.

"Life isn't, Deandra," Gran had told me sharply when I complained. "But it's hardly more fair for your brother than it is for you." You can't fight with Gran. It's only frustrating, because she never ever admits that she may be wrong, and also my parents made me promise I wouldn't. So I just sighed. And sulked.

So there I was, an Irish girl in Canada forced to look after my baby brother, struggling to keep my temper as he ran around the house with a football screaming. But when he burst into my bedroom the third time, I snapped. "Go out and play in the back garden!" I screamed. "Leave me alone! For God's sake, Cayne –"

I stopped. I was shaking too hard to speak, felt the wave of terror wash over me so that it mixed with the fury, threatened to overflow, burst out of me. My brother stared at me with wide green eyes, silent for the first time that entire day as he stared at me.

It was his eyes, I think, that saved him. That innocent, confused gaze had me heaving in great breaths, trying to calm down, forcing all my anger away into blankness. I wouldn't change. I wouldn't hurt him. Eventually the shaking stopped, and I sunk down on my bed, panting. _Thank God, thank God,_ I chanted over and over even as my temples throbbed with the beginnings of a headache.

But I hadn't changed. I hadn't hurt Cayne.

"'Andra?" I opened my eyes to look straight into his as he leant over me, chubby face concerned and bewildered. Relieved beyond words, I reached out and pulled him into my lap, held him close. He was safe. I breathed in his scent – grass and mud and little boy – and thanked God once more. "'Andra's burning me!" he giggled, wriggling out of my grasp. I let go at once and he slid to the floor.

"Go play outside, Cayne," I told him, calm now. "And please, _please_ don't come into my bedroom again." He nodded, flashed those adorable dimples at me in a smile before skipping out, and I lay back on my bed with closed eyes. If I'd hurt him…

My situation: I was a third generation werewolf, only recently phased for the first time. My parents belonged to a pack in Ireland who made a life out of hunting down vampires, destroying them. My Grandpa had made the decision to stop changing a while ago, and was slipping into the routine with the rest of his former pack as grandfathers and humans. Mam and Dad had decided to send my brother and I to live with our grandparents when I hit my teens, knowing that soon I might change and there would be nobody to look after Cayne. They didn't want their life for me; they hoped that by sending me away, I might escape the phasing.

But I guess it was too late, because only days after arriving in Canada I changed into a werewolf. Grandpa could explain it to me, but he wouldn't run with me. I hadn't even met any human friends yet to hang out with, so all in all it was turning into one crappy summer, not to mention the babysitting duty.

At least I was learning to control myself. Grandpa had told me a horrible story about a member of the pack, years ago, who'd lost control and mauled his own best friend. I still shuddered to think of it; what if I ever did that? I'd come so close to losing control this afternoon. So, so close.

My thoughts were interrupted by a wail from downstairs that I'd have heard even if I didn't have extra-sensitive hearing. With a sigh I swung my legs off my bed and went to see what Cayne was making a fuss about.

"Cayne?" I found him in the back garden – or yard, I supposed – sobbing his little eyes out. "What's the matter?" I glanced past him to the hole in the chain link fence, looked beyond that to where my brother's ball lay innocently on next-door's scrubby lawn. "It's all right, Cayne. We'll get your ball back." I studied the fence; realized the ball was too far away to reach. I considered climbing over, rejected that on the basis I wasn't going to do that in the dress I was wearing. Besides, I'd got into trouble before climbing into somebody's garden to retrieve a ball Cayne had lost. With a sigh, I took his hand in mine. "Come on, Cayne. Let's go next door and ask them."

Gran had told me this morning that the neighbour – one Peter Delmont – had returned late last night from a family funeral. He had been away three weeks, so it was just my luck that Cayne should throw his ball through the fence today.

A single car stood in the driveway, but otherwise the house appeared lifelessly silent. As I pressed the doorbell, I heard it echo in the house, hoped that Peter Delmont was in or I'd have a snuffling, whimpering Cayne on my hands for the rest of the day. God help me. We waited, Cayne fidgeting at my side, until I heard light footsteps, bolts being drawn back.

The door creaked open an inch.

I hadn't expected to be confronted with a little boy. I decided that this wasn't Peter Delmont, as Gran had never talked about him like he was a ten year-old. "Um…hello? I was wondering if I could get back my little brother's ball. It got into your back garden…yard."

The boy stared at me a moment.

"I'm from next door," I offered. He nodded once, eyes flickering past me to Cayne. "Um…" I was running out of ideas. "Is anybody else in?" A nod. Irritation rose within me, and I struggled to hold it down. Couldn't the boy talk?

"Cole, who's at the door?" Another voice. Footsteps on the stairs as the little boy – Cole? – glanced back into the house. "Who is it?"

I was still biting back annoyance when the door opened wider.

And I fell in love.

* * *

_**Dewayne White**_

When I woke up, finding my soulmate wasn't on my list of things to do. It's hardly something you plan for. But nonetheless, that afternoon when I came downstairs to see who was at the door, answered by my little brother, I looked out into the eyes of an angel.

It took less than a second for me to realize that I was in love with her.

She was the answer to every question, the reason my heart beat, the reason for the air I drew into my lungs. She held everything I was, everything I ever would be. If I had lived before this moment, the world must surely have been a pale shadow compared to this new place I found myself in. Everything was brighter, my senses on overdrive, and she was brightest of all.

I had tripped into a new, sparkling world where angels appeared on doorsteps, where one glimpse of a person could have your heart skipping in your chest and render you speechless. I could have died in that moment and still been perfectly happy, been absolutely sure that in heaven there would be a green-eyed angel. Even if I didn't end up there, everything would be all right because she would be in heaven; she would be there even if I ended up in hell.

I knew in that moment that I would do anything she ever asked of me, if it made her happy. I would become anything she wanted, as long as she allowed me to be in her presence. If she asked me to run to the other side of the earth to bring her back…a fist sized emerald, I would worry only that I might not be able to return fast enough to please her.

I was drowning in her eyes, green as emeralds, green as grass in springtime, green as…scrap that, her eyes were the definition of the word. Why would anybody ever want to look at a different colour? Except for the shining red-gold of her hair that framed her face, a halo greater than any worn by any other angel.

A soft breeze lifted those strands of fiery gold, stirring her scent so that it filled my lungs, filled my world with swirls of heaven. Perfection smelt like this, I decided. This was Paradise and Eden and Nirvana all rolled into one, only better because she was there. The girl I would do anything for. My angel.

This was where I wanted to be. Forever.

* * *

_**Deandra Anderson**_

He was staring at me, and sudden panic gripped my throat. What if he didn't like me? What if I wasn't good enough? I would change; I would become anything he wanted if it made him like me, if it meant I could be with him. Be near him so I could watch his face, hear his voice, smell the scent that rolled off his skin in waves of wonder.

I wished that I could find some way to let him know what he meant to me, tell him how I wanted to be everything to him that he was to me. I wanted to see those so serious eyes laughing, wanted to see his lips curve upwards into a smile and know that I had made him happy.

Words couldn't describe the feelings that were overflowing inside me, building until I was certain they would explode.

I would do anything for him. He was my other half, completing my heart and soul. He had unlocked my spirit, and it was his. Everything I was belonged to him, was because of him. I lived, I breathed, _for_ him.

Everything about him was…I couldn't find a word. The black of his hair that shimmered blue where it caught the light; the deep bronze of his skin that covered each curve and line of his face; his eyes, a rich chestnut that words couldn't describe. My stomach flipped, twisted in knots, and I knew I could never be good enough for him. But I could try; I would do anything if it meant I could see him smile. Smile for _me_.

The silence stretched on. I would have been happy staying there, but he would think me crazy. I didn't want him – the angel, the god – to think me mad. "My name is Deandra," I murmured.

"Deandra," he repeated softly, and I panicked again. What if he didn't like it? "I'm Dewayne."

It was perfect. "Dewayne." I savoured the word on my lips, sure he must think me an idiot and unable to stop the flush that rose to my cheeks. He kept on staring at me with those depthless eyes, meeting my gaze with an intensity I was sure I was imagining. _Dewayne_. I had fallen in love with Dewayne. Sweet Jesus, could I have ever been more wrong about the fallibility of love at first sight?

Love. I was in love. But how could such a little word convey the depth of all that I was feeling? How could this moment, the way I felt right now, even be described? It was…it was everything.

A small, irritating, insistent tugging on my hand drew me back from my living dream and I glanced down in annoyance at Cayne. What did he want? Couldn't he see…? I almost melted as Dewayne's voice cut through my exasperation, smooth as velvet and the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

"Cole, would you take…"

"Cayne," my brother supplied eagerly.

"…Cayne to get his ball? Back yard, Cole." The boy glanced up at his brother just once before leading Cayne away.

Dewayne and I were left staring at each other.

The breeze whispered through the tops of the trees behind our houses, setting the leaves to singing. It brought with it a thousand little sounds – children's voices, the quiet rumble of the main road on the other side of the estate – as life passed by, the world turning on even as ours stopped.

"Deandra…" My eyes flickered down to the hand Dewayne held out to me, then back up to his gaze disbelievingly. Could he mean…?

I reached out tentatively and laid my hand in his, the breeze catching my hair as I did so to blow it forward around my face. Blushing, I pushed it back with my free hand, only to find Dewayne staring at me with an unreadable emotion on his gorgeous face. His fingers tightened on mine, and it was only then that I realized how hot his skin was; it was as scaldingly warm as my own.

Confusion colouring my face, my eyes snapped up to meet his and found a fierce joy in them. "Run with me," he commanded. And I knew.

I would run with him anywhere, anytime. Because I was in love with him. Because he was a werewolf, and he was my mate. Because I was his, too, and we would run together for the rest of our lives.

* * *

_**Dewayne White**_

The breeze stirred her hair, blew her scent towards me again but this time something about it caught my attention. Underlying the beautiful smell of her was another, more familiar that my body recognised and reacted to before I could work out what it was.

My hand reached forward of its own accord, my lips murmured her name, and I was flooded with joy as she moved to lay her fingers in mine. The instant she touched me, I knew.

Like a fire, the point of origin our joined hands, flames raced through my blood so engulf my heart in a roaring inferno. Fire meeting fire, an explosion of souls neither one of us could have resisted, because she was a werewolf. My mate.

"Run with me." The words slipped from my lips without thought, the most natural thing in the world to say, and although she did not speak I knew her answer. Hand in hand, we headed silently for the forest, moving as quickly as we could deep into the woods where the world was quiet and nobody could intrude.

I turned my back as she removed her clothes, yet was still tortuously aware of the sound of her dress sliding up over her skin, of the material falling softly to the ground, of the soft crackle as her bare feet against the dried leaves as she stepped free. Our heartbeats pounding in unison, even that small distance between us felt like a gaping void and my fingers twisted in my clothing in my hurry to rid myself of it. Free at last, I gave in to the overwhelming desire to change.

A surge of emotions, flickers of thoughts and memories, and I knew I was home.

I'd shared my mind before in the form of a wolf; I'd been part of a pack for enough time, albeit only of three, to know what it was like to share all thoughts and feelings. But this was different entirely. Nothing held back, nothing hidden, this was an intimacy such as I had never imagined, a bond between us of hearts and minds, and souls.

This was what being whole was like.

Love freely reciprocated as we searched each other's minds, learning more about each other in a moment than most pairs would learn in a lifetime. I skimmed through her memories, utterly aware of the image at the forefront of her mind; myself, from her point of view, with as much love pouring towards that one picture as I knew must be flowing to a similar image in my own mind.

Except there was no _I_ or _you_; there was only _we._

We weren't alone any more.

A wave of sadness washed over me from Deandra, and I cursed myself at having brought up that memory for her to see, cursed myself for making her feel that grief.

_Not your fault,_ I heard. _So sorry._

_It's over,_ I thought in reply. _Nothing I could do._

_Selfish,_ she thought, and that was swiftly followed by a wave of remorse and guilt at having thought that. I considered it now, wondered if I had been right in my initial judgement.

Had my father really been so selfish? I had certainly thought so, after he killed himself rather than live without my mother. But if he had felt like this – been this much in love with her – how could that have been selfish?

_No,_ and I felt her horror. _Never hurt yourself. You mustn't._

_You'll never die._ I felt sick at the thought of it.

Her amusement cheered me as if it were my own. _I'll promise never to die, if you promise not to hurt yourself if anything ever did happen to me._

_We'll both promise,_ I assured her. If anything happened to me, I couldn't bear the idea of her ending her own life. But then, if I had to live without her…

_We promise never to die, then._ Whether the thought came from her, or me, I didn't know and it didn't matter. We were one and the same; two halves of a whole.

_Run with me_, we thought.

We ran, ran faster than we have ever done before, and it was ecstasy knowing that we moved together, moved as one, two separate bodies of the same entity.

_Spend eternity with me._

_Forever._

An agreement; as if an agreement had to be made.

* * *

**A/N: Simultaneous imprinting. Got to love them. Please review and let me know what you think! xxx :) **


	2. White Wolf: Part 2

**A/N: Sorry this took so unbelievably long! Nearly a month…I'm an awful updater when I'm not working to schedule…and I had writer's block on top of that. Then I kept getting distracted by my other stories, and I've been reading a lot too so…I'm sorry. Ooh, and maths homework. Or should that be HOLIDAY work. Anyone want a go? I didn't think so.**

**But OMG!! We got our GCSE results the other day, and I'm so happy! I know a girl who got 100 in one exam…love her and be very proud of her.**

**And Breaking Dawn! Wasn't it amazing? You know my second choice for Callie's name was Carlie (Renesmee's middle name) which was kinda scary. But I loved it.**

**Anyway (clears throat) back to the story. I won't be covering every event in as much detail as I went into on Dewayne and Deandra's imprinting, as you'll see by the dates. Some bits or people will be in much more detail – for example the extract I started which won't be up for ages, as it's in 2004. About 16 years to go from here…**

**Sorry for the long author's note! Hope you enjoy and review to let me know what you think xxx :)**

* * *

**White Wolf: Part 2**

**1988**

_**Deandra Anderson**_

Our agreement was formalized four years later.

Eighteen years old and fresh out of college, neither of us had the funds or inclination to study any further, and there was no point in wasting time dancing around the issue. We were in love, and the over-zealous morality of my grandparents and Dewayne's uncle was really starting to get in the way of things. Gran, in particular, kept sicking my eight year-old baby brother on us so not only could we not 'get up to anything' as she put it, but we were also unable to change, especially in those few days before our wedding.

I think that it was that, more than anything else, which allowed our first vampire to slip past us.

Please don't think I'm trying to say that Gran's death was all her own fault; I _know_ we should have been patrolling, know that it was our scent which drew the bloodsucker and our responsibility to keep the people around us safe. Our first real challenge, and we'd fallen.

My grandfather was heartbroken; but because he'd never imprinted his grief wasn't the all-consuming, suicidal misery that had driven Dewayne's father to taking his own life. I still shudder at the memory I had seen in my love's mind; with her lifemate too far away to save her, all-too-human Janet White had died after a truck driver lost control of his vehicle and ran her car off a bridge. Incapable of even contemplating life without her, Dewayne's father had drowned himself. Worse, he had swum far out into the ocean in his wolf form, apparently not caring that his son was aware of his every thought.

It made me so angry.

The idea that Dewayne might choose the same path should anything happen to _me_ constantly terrified me. I had nightmares in which my beloved swum doggedly – pardon the pun – out, way into the ocean and then simply stopped swimming. What made me wake screaming, though, was that in the dream I wasn't dead; I was watching him swim, but I couldn't reach him, couldn't phase. Even considering the concept of losing him was enough to send me into a blind panic, until only his arms around me could calm my fears.

Yes, my grandparents did eventually accept that there was no way they were going to stop Dewayne from climbing _out_ of his window at night and into my room via _my_ window. I think that was partly due to Grandpa's assurances to Gran that we wouldn't actually be able to get up to anything – stupid werewolf super-senses – and he was still strong enough to beat the stuffing out of Dewayne should the event require it.

They'd also accepted that where I went, Dewayne was going to follow. I could have told them that, but they still seemed to feel it was necessary to move to Seattle. That was partly, I admit, to avoid the questions people were starting to ask after the home economics teacher saw me heal after accidentally stabbing my finger during class. Luckily nobody else had seen it so her claims were blown off as being crazy, but the point was that she'd already made those claims – and I was being watched extra-carefully by any number of curious students.

I was transferred midway through term – and it wasn't too much of a surprise to me when I arrived in the parking lot on the first day to find Dewayne waiting for me. Resigned, my grandparents made arrangements with his uncle that he could stay in our spare room, on the condition _my_ bedroom was out of limits. I didn't spend an awful lot of time in my bedroom after that for the three years we were in Seattle.

That, of course, was all before the wedding; before we moved back to Canada.

Dewayne and I – with Cole and Cayne in tow, as irritatingly always – were returning home from doing some pre-wedding shopping when we caught the scent. We recognised it instantly, but I'd only smelt it second-hand on my parents and that was before I actually phased myself. Now that sickly, burning sweetness had my nostrils flaring, a mixture of anger and fear rising within me as I turned to look at Dewayne.

How _dare_ they intrude on our territory?

The anger grew as we followed the scent home, having dumped the boys unceremoniously at the house of one of Cole's friends, swelled into an incontrollable rage. We arrived home faster than we ever had before, in time to kill the vampire that was bold or stupid enough to have tracked us to our homes. We were too late to save Gran.

The wedding went ahead as planned, a week or two late but not even the murder of my grandmother could put off the day I finally pledged myself to Dewayne. The ceremony was more for everybody else's sakes than ours; we _knew_ what we meant to each other, that we were going to spend the rest of our lives living for the other, but apparently our families needed written confirmation of this before they let us go and live our lives as we had been wanting to for the past four years.

Despite Gran's best efforts, it turned out that I _was_ already pregnant by the wedding; not by much, and not enough for anybody to realize later, but just enough for my hormones to make me feel guilty about it. Damn hormones.

The guilt soon passed. I was too busy being radiantly, ecstatically happy about being married to Dewayne, and being pregnant with his baby. One thing Mam hadn't told me was that, being a werewolf, you have a mild telepathic link with your baby, and let me tell you; that's one of the most amazing things I've ever known. To be _linked_ with a tiny consciousness, to know that there is a tiny person inside you and be able to feel the warm, sleepy content of that person is beyond words, beyond expression. While our baby boy didn't have any thoughts, as such, he seemed to exist entirely on emotions that buoyed me through the months that I carried him so that I was walking on air, despite the massive burden that made _actual_ walking slightly more awkward than normal.

The only blip to our utter content was not so much an actual problem but a disturbance, a difference. Cole phased for the first time at the age of fourteen, a few weeks after the wedding – no doubt prompted by the presence of the bloodsucker that killed my Gran.

You have no idea what the word 'awkward' means until you have to share your mind – every thought and emotion – with the brother of your newly wed husband. Cole couldn't look us in the eye without blushing for months.

It was very difficult at first; Dewayne and I had become used to sharing everything openly with the other, no reservations or boundaries; we'd never, in four years, had to censor the thoughts we shared. However, when you're 'talking' to your husband, lover, soulmate and then his baby brother accidentally joins the conversation…I think you get the picture. Or, more to the point, _Cole_ got the picture, which led to him being unable to meet my eyes for a very, very long time.

Although I did miss the absolute freedom of thought between Dewayne and I, it was wonderful beyond words to be pack. Having grown up in one, but not actually belonging to it, I finally had a pack of my own, and I vowed that _we_ would be as much family as pack for our children.

We named our baby Donnagán.

* * *

_**Dewayne White**_

Four years did nothing to change that first second's impression I had of Deandra. It took me less than a second to realize I was in love with her; every second after that was spent learning just how much I adored her.

Every time she smiled, my heart would leap; every time she smiled because of something I had done, or said, I always swore I would make her smile like that for eternity. Nothing was more perfect than when we were together; I sometimes wished that the two of us could simply leave, running as far and as fast as we wanted to until it felt that we were the only ones in the world.

She was an angel; unfortunately, there were too many boys at school who would agree with that.

Super-sensitive hearing was brilliant for hunting leeches, but not so good when you could hear every word of the creeps eyeing up your soulmate. Deandra didn't seem to care; as she pointed out, _we_ knew that I was hers and she was mine, and what _they_ thought didn't matter.

I still couldn't wait to marry her, to mark her officially as mine in a way that the whole world would understand. Everything was perfect, and the baby was the icing on the cake. Deandra was so happy; Donnagán was _ours_, something that belonged tangibly to both of us, one more link between us that could not be broken.

And then Cole happened.

It took him around a week to learn how to phase back, and every moment of that was agonizing. Deandra and I were already taking shifts patrolling after the murder of her grandmother, and we were used to letting our minds wander freely as we paced the outer perimeter of our territory. As soon as Cole joined us, that had to stop. Of course, it wasn't that I saw my baby brother as a threat; it was simply that Cole sort of inherited every thought, memory or image that crossed my mind, and it turned out that when the name 'Deandra' was ever mentioned we had very different mental images of her.

_Awkward._

The first time it happened I was almost ready to tear his head off. Running together, it was suggested that we head for home. My mind, of course, leapt to my bride. _Jesus, Dewayne!_ Cole whimpered. _Do you have to?_

I was startled. _You can see…?_

An image leapt through his mind and I _felt _him wince, but I had already jumped at him to pin my baby brother down with my teeth perilously close to his throat. _Never_, I hissed, _think of that again. _

_Jesus, it was _your_ memory,_ Cole whined. _You think I want to see her like that? She's practically my big sister._

Like I said…awkward. Matters did improve, however, once Cole started to gain control over both his changings and his temper, particularly since that time also gave Deandra and I the practice we needed to censor our thoughts. We did, however, discover that there was a slightly deeper link between mates than just _pack_mates, so it was possible to keep things from Cole, but the three of us came to a general consensus that the least shared was probably best.

In addition, the fact that we'd moved back to Canada helped. There was so much more space to run around, places miles away where we could run without any fear of being overhead – Cole's new super-senses worked much the same way as Deandra's grandfather's had done.

The death of Nuala Anderson – Deandra's Gran – had highlighted the absolute impracticalities of us living in the city, even if we were on the very outskirts. If our scent was going to draw bloodsuckers, neither of us wanted to bring that to a city where so many innocent, unaware humans lived, especially when we couldn't even phase. Although living there had been great for a while, it wasn't a long-term arrangement that would work.

It wasn't hard to move. The only regret was for my wife, leaving behind a friend that she'd grown fairly close to. I suppose that being the only woman in a family of four boys – her grandfather, Cole, Cayne, Donnagán and I – could be occasionally wearing, and to have a female friend was a nice change. There was a lot of sobbing when we left; two pregnant woman crying over each other while the woman's husband – Billy Black, he was called – looked on feeling helpless.

Billy Black was from the Quileute reservation a short distance away, and it turned out he was related – distantly – to one of the men in the old pack, the pack of Deandra's grandfather. Even more interestingly, Billy Black's own grandfather was a werewolf.

We did make plans to go over and visit them; to hear the stories, meet the pack and – on Deandra's part more than mine – see the babies when they were born. But somehow it never happened.

Donnagán White was born on the twentieth of May, 1989. He came into this world screaming, with a fuzz of hair the exact same colour as his mother's, and he was the first thing that I can say completely, truly terrified me. My son was so tiny – and perfect – and so eminently _breakable._ For a long time, I was torn between spending time with my beautiful wife and our baby, or going out on double or even triple patrol to make sure there was absolutely nothing in the vicinity that could even remotely threaten my family.

"You're being ridiculous, Dewayne," Deandra told me firmly at last. She had our son over her shoulder, where he was intently watching the trees in the back garden with massive, innocent dark brown eyes and cooing every now and again. Donnagán had dimples when he smiled, which was an awful lot once he got over the terrible shock of being born. Christ, I swear it took _me_ longer to recover from that than it did either my wife or son. Seeing Deandra so vulnerable, in such agony, and knowing that there was absolutely nothing I could do to help except hold her hand and tell her how much I loved her.

Feeling helpless was not something I did often; I swore it would be a long time before I felt so again.

"It's ridiculous that you're doing this, love," Deandra insisted again. "You've got to trust Cole to do his patrol and Christ, I'm going to go out and do mine soon. No arguing," she cut me off sternly even as I opened my mouth to protest, "I'm fine. We heal fast, remember? And if you're going to expect me to stay cooped up in this house all the time like some…some _housewife_ you've got another thing coming."

I closed my mouth, tried to hide the grin. She was so adorable when she got mad…scrap that, she was adorable all the time. I was so unbelievably lucky to have her. "I just don't want to lose you," I replied honestly. "_Either_ of you. Nobody's getting past me, love. Nothing and nobody is going to get within a hundred miles of you or our baby."

Deandra's scowl wavered. I could practically watch her melt, and took the opportunity to draw her – draw them both – into my arms. "You're still being ridiculous," she murmured into my neck, but I'm fairly certain she didn't mean it. "I love you."

"I love you more."

Donnagán cooed at a tree.

"You _know_ how much I love you, and I'm pretty certain neither of us can claim that." Deandra's lips curved into a smile against my skin and I kissed her forehead. What could I have possibly done to deserve her? Deserve this?

"_Stop _that." Deandra pulled back, still staying in the circle of my arms, and her perfect brow furrowed. "We've discussed this, my love. You deserve _every single thing _you get. Stop thinking you're not good enough, because you're the best –" she kissed me, "– most amazing – loving – and wonderful person I know." She kissed me again between each word. "This is all yours, Dewayne. Your life, your family, and you deserve every little bit of it. This is my life too, and you're not getting away that easily."

She sounded almost fierce by the end of it, and I couldn't help smiling. "There's no way anyone else is good enough for you," I told her. "And Donnagán's going to have to find somebody exactly like you when he grows up, because nobody will ever be good enough for him either." Hearing his name, my son turned massive brown eyes on me, his cheeks dimpling, and I couldn't help but enfold them both in my arms again. "You're the most important things in the world," I told them. "And nothing's getting anywhere near you."

"You know…" Deandra began thoughtfully.

Uh-oh. I knew that tone of voice. This sounded ominous.

"…my best friend had twins. Rachel and Rebecca."

Twins. I gulped as an image of Deandra, pale-faced and screaming, returned to my mind. No way were we having any more children any time soon, but I pretended to play dumb. "So…? We have Donnagán. He'd better than any two girls, any day."

"But he's going to be lonely when he gets older," Deandra objected. "He'll have nobody to play with."

"He'll have us. He'll have Cole and Cayne, too." I was aware I sounded almost desperate. But I didn't want to have to go through pregnancy and birth again. "He doesn't need a brother."

"Or sister," Deandra pointed out. Her delectable bottom lip stuck out, ever so slightly. _Oh no, not the pout._ "But what if I _wanted _another baby?"

And that was the catch. There was nothing, _nothing, _I wouldn't give my wife if she wanted it. I'd decided once that I'd run to the ends of the earth to find whatever she desired, but that didn't even come close as she gazed up at me now with her bright emerald eyes. I'd go to hell and back for her. Oh, God.

Donnagán's dimples flared again, and he struck out with one tiny, perfect fist at me. Another baby? I saw another little boy, exactly like Donnagán, and knew that I was lost.

"Dewayne?" Deandra pressed her hand to my cheek. This pair really, really had be wrapped around their fingers. I was so lucky.

"I'm back!" The front door slammed, and Cole sauntered in. "Nothing out there, Dewayne. Hey, Don, how are you doing?" He lifted his nephew, twirled him around as Donnagán shrieked with laughter. As always, I had to fight the urge to seize my son back, grab him just in case Cole dropped him. I was so lost.

"He's fine." How could Deandra be so casual? What if Cole dropped him? But my wife just smile, laced her fingers through mine and leant casually back into my chest. "Hey, Cole, don't you think Donnagán should have a little brother or sister?"

Cole froze, glanced between us with horrified eyes. "Oh, Jesus." He thrust Donnagán back towards us, spun on his heel to leave, and I had to laugh.

"Relax, Cole. It was just speculation. And not now, not yet." _Not ever,_ I added privately as I remembered Deandra's agony. But then another Donnagán…

I had a feeling I was going to lose this argument. Losing it already.

"I love you, Dewayne," Deandra told me sweetly.

Losing? Lost.

* * *

**A/N: So…like? Please review to let me know. I promise I'll try and update sooner this time, but I'm going back to school soon pouts and we're going camping for 3 days. Camping. Bonding exercises! Except we've all known each other 5 years already. Go figure.**

**Ooh, and please check out the twilight awards - there's a link on my profile. Shattered Sunrise got nominated for best post-Eclipse (or something like that) and there's some great stuff on there!**

**While you're waiting for the update, maybe go check out some of my favourite stories? Especially my friend Jude Mackenzie's 'I Walk in Shadows'…I help proof-read it and I love it. It's feeling unloved though so…**

**Please review! Love you guys loads xxx :)**


End file.
